Tearing Down Walls
by rikkucheerio
Summary: GorenOC  This could be considered a followon to She Counts the Time 'Till Her Heart Breaks. , but I don't think it's absolutely necessary for you to have read it.  Young kids are supposed to idolize their fathers and... I want that.


**"As Alcoholism Progresses, So Does the Denial  
**One of the most frustrating factors in dealing with alcoholism, as a relative, friend or professional, is it is almost always accompanied by a phenomenon known as "denial."

In the long path the alcoholic takes toward mental, physical and moral decline, usually the first thing to go is honesty. He simply lies about his drinking. Little lies at first.

_I only had two... I haven't had a drink in a week... I don't drink as much as he does..._

As the alcoholic begins to drink more, and more often, he begins to hide this fact from those around him. Depending upon his circumstances he may drink openly, but usually he will conceal the amount he drinks, by not drinking around those who are closest to him.

If someone tries to discuss his drinking with him, he simply refuses to talk about it, or dismisses it as not a real problem. After all, he's a big boy now and he can drink if he wants to, it's nobody else's business.

**Clues To a Problem**  
But these simple acts of denial, lying about his drinking or refusing to discuss it, are clues that the alcoholic himself deep down inside knows that he has a problem. If it's not a problem, why lie about it to anyone? To protect **them**?

But the true alcoholic, the person that has the disease, covers up and denies his drinking out of his own feelings that there is something different or "wrong" about it. Somewhere inside he realizes that his drinking **means more to him** that he is willing to admit.

As the disease progresses and his drinking begins to cause real problems in his life, remarkably the denial likewise increases. Even though his sprees have gotten him into some real trouble, he denies it has anything to do with his drinking. Some say this is purely a defense mechanism.

How is this possible? Usually by the time the disease has gotten to the crisis point, he has developed a support system of family and friends who unwittingly enable him to continue in his denial.

Because they love the affable, clever and witty alcoholic, they act to protect him by covering for him, doing the work that he doesn't get done, paying the bills that he doesn't pay, rescuing him from his scrapes with the law, and generally taking up the responsibilities he has abandoned."**  
-From about(dot)com **

I'm on autopilot today. I'm just... I'm exhausted, I'm numb, I'm embarrassed and I'm ashamed. I want to go home, to get away from prying eyes and hurtful rumors. Nestled amongst all the congratulations are the hushed rumors, the whispers about the infallible Detective Goren falling apart at the seams. They talk about Andy with pity, feeling sorry for her, seeing her as being stuck with me now. Before, she still had a chance to get out, but now she's trapped. I don't think highly of my behavior, or myself but I've come to see that this is what she wants. I don't understand why, but it is, and I'm depending on it. There's no way I could make it through this without her.

I finally realize how big of a problem I have. It's far bigger than I can handle, even with the help of friends. I firmly believed it was something I could take care of on my own. But I was in denial. I refused to talk about it, to accept help, to acknowledge my inability to cope. I thought it was simply having the ability to say no when offered a drink and not having temptation in my home. Both of those are easy to do when the desire isn't there. They're easy to do when life is going smoothly. I thought I was doing good, staying clean for three months, but I'm not any better than I was in June, and I may even be worse. I may be able to function relatively normally and I may not be spending days upon days drunk, but I haven't dealt with the problem.

_I don't talk about this with anyone. Not even really with Andy. We've both survived, but that's all we've done. We swept it under the metaphorical rug and slapped a few band-aids on the deep wounds. Recently, as my medication decreases, I pick at those wounds with increasing frequency. I pick and I scratch because they've just started to heal, but one of these days, I'll slip and I'll bleed. I know she's standing by, holding her breath, with towels and more band-aids, praying that this isn't the time I bleed to death. She's watching the countdown, seeing each number tick by, knowing that when the countdown reaches zero, there won't be anything left to put band-aids on._

Even then, I acknowledged my problem, but failed to accept the severity of it. I can wrap it up in prose and slap a pretty bow of words on it, but that's not accomplishing anything. That's denial. That's minimizing. My depth of field was so narrow, I didn't realize I'm hurting anyone but myself. I _knew_ I was, but I didn't... it's hard to articulate but we've all had those moments. Two things opened my eyes. The first was making Eames cry just with the crap I was telling her. I told her I believed I'd failed her. I said I didn't believe her when she told me I could beat this. I still don't know if I believe it, but at least I want to try to beat it; the believing can come later. It's been long enough that the memory of the look in her eyes, the hurt, has faded some. I don't know why I was more receptive to it or more aware of what was going on, but this small conversation had a big impact. Unfortunately, it didn't impact me until later that night... when event two happened. When it comes to this baby, I've already started to mess up and miss out. I'm afraid that's all I'll ever be able to do. I'm always going to be an alcoholic, but I hope I can keep that side of me hidden from my kids. I don't want them to look down on me. Young kids are supposed to idolize their fathers and... I want that.

Because it's Wednesday, I talked with Skoda. Since I can easily recognize a maladjusted person, I've been censoring what I've been telling him. I've been telling him what he wants to hear, what I need to say to get him to leave me alone. I was leaving out that which was most important; I was leaving out the real problems. After my breakdown yesterday, I decided that I need to tell him everything, because otherwise, he can't help me and help is what I need the most. I have to learn to swallow my pride, to curb my stubbornness, and to accept help. I say I want to get better and to be myself again, but until I learn to do those things, I can't start to move forward. Based on what I told him tonight, he's messing around with my medication. He added Campral. It'll help keep me clean and if I relapse, it'll help keep the severity down and increase the abstinence time. The down side is, he wants to continue taking me off the anti-depressant. I don't agree with this. Depression and alcoholism have a strong connection. I guess I should just trust him, because after all, he's the one prescribing drugs, not me.

Tonight, after I met with Skoda, I went to my first AA meeting. It was very humbling and even a bit embarrassing, being exposed so much, but I'm surrounded by people in the same position as I am and they're able to do it. The AA philosophy is to continue to abstain from alcohol in the future. There is no middle ground. The AA view is that someone is an alcoholic for life, whether that person is actively drinking or not. There is no such thing as being "cured", but is instead considered "in recovery." This program is going to teach me that alcoholism is a bigger problem than I am and that I am not weak-willed or lacking moral strength, but instead, I simply have an affliction. Right now, those are just hollow words, but I hope I'll come to believe it.

I've been thinking about the baby all day (not to mention being surrounded by little yellow ducks. Thanks guys) and doing that has kept me grounded. And it makes me smile.


End file.
